


It's All Just a Cover - Part 5 - Can't Fight This Feeling

by Winchester_with_Wings



Series: It's All Just a Cover - Rockstar AU [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Groupie!Dean, Groupie!Sam, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Music, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rockstar AU, Rockstar!Gabriel, Rockstar!Reader, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Song fic, in a band, possible implied f/f, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SERIES SUMMARY:<br/>The Reader is the lead singer in an eclectic cover band. Her brother Gabriel is the drummer with candy cane drumsticks. The Reader is content living the facade of a rockstar lifestyle until her brother Gabe invites Sam backstage and his brother Dean comes with and ultimately makes her reconsider who she is and what she wants.</p><p>PART FIVE SUMMARY:<br/>It’s been about 6 weeks since your drunken encounter with Dean Winchester and you’ve been avoiding him as best you can. But since Sam and Gabe are getting closer now, it becomes clear that you can’t ignore Dean for much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Just a Cover - Part 5 - Can't Fight This Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Okay…so it has been almost 2 months since I posted part 4. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to post a new part and I’m sorry that it’s basically half the length of the last one too. The reason it’s been so long is because I did Nanowrimo and then i hit writer’s block on how to write this next part so I hope this piece is acceptable. Let me know what ya’ll think! (This part has some Sabriel development)
> 
> The Set-List:  
> "Kryptonite" by 3 Doors Down  
> "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin  
> "All Out of Love" by Air Supply  
> "Bad Company" by Bad Company. Covered by Five Finger Death Punch  
> "I'm Not An Angel" by Halestorm  
> "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon
> 
> *sorry I couldn't link the songs this time :(

Balthazar tilts your head so hard and so fast that your neck cracks. You wince and curse at your roommate. He meets your gaze in the mirror and squints at you and your glare.

“Don’t deny it. You love it when that happens,” he says as he leans around you and the chair in the large bathroom and picks up an electric razor off the counter. You’re sitting in front of the mirror with a towel around your neck and shoulders and Balthazar is standing behind you as if your bathroom is a luscious salon and one haircut from Balthy is going to change your life.

“That better not be the razor  _you_  use,” you warn him. “I don’t want your pubes touching my head,” you say, the idea makes you gag. Balthazar scoffs.

“Puh-leaze. I do not use this kind of razor down there. I use that,” he points to a razor on a shelf that’s the shape and size of a pen. You eyes widen in the mirror. It’s a bikini line trimmer for women. It’s  _your_  razor.

“Are you serious?!” You try to whip your head around and Balthy’s hand palms your skull like a basketball and keeps you facing forward.

“Yes, I’m joking. I have a whole shaving kit in my room. Now sit still or you’re getting a pinstripe design,” Balthazar says as he turns on the razor. It buzzes and it reminds you of a tattoo gun.

When you were very young and enamored with the idea of getting tattoos, Gabe had shown you his electric razor and offered to use it on your forearm to prove that–even though it sounds like a tattoo gun–a razor wouldn’t hurt. You’d been too scared of the noise to actually let him touch you with it. To be fair, you were 10 years old at the time. Now, more than a decade later, you actually have one tattoo but no more than that lone sparrow set against a setting sun and you actually enjoy the feel of the razor running over the sides of your skull.

The vibration of the tool massages your scalp as Balthazar begins to trim your buzzcut on the right side. It stops and your long hair begins in a perfectly straight and defined line where a far side part would usually begin an inch or so above your eyebrow. The buzz extends a few inches behind your ear too.

Balthy tilts your head to the other side and does the exact same kind of touch-up. You have so much hair on the top and back of your head that when you part your hair in the middle, your hair can cover the sides and it doesn’t even look like the sides are shaved. Buzzing them was originally a way to reduce the weight and volume. You’d found that there were so many ways you could wear it too and that played in well with your adaptive style of singing. If your band ever did a country night, which was under serious consideration due to popular demand, you’d decided you’d wear your hair down and parted in the middle. It made you look cute, sweet and innocent, but that was for another night.

Balthazar removes the towel from around your neck and shakes the hair out of the towel and onto the floor which he then sweeps up because you told him so. You stand up and toss your hair until it’s all swept to one side. You use hairspray to make it stay. You’re wearing a black and pink sports bra and boyshorts underwear. You don’t care that Balthazar is standing right there. You say thank you and he smacks you on the ass as he walks past.

“My pleasure,” he winks and then leaves you to your pre-show routine; except the show isn’t for a few more hours. You’re walking from the bathroom to your bedroom when you hear Gabe and a familiar voice. It stops you in your tracks which probably isn’t a good thing since you’re in your underwear.

“Gabriel, I think that’s enough sugar.”

“Ugh, no it’s not Sammy!”

“The recipe only calls for  _one_  cup of sugar.”

You see Gabe hang his head in a pout from where you’re standing, with a direct line a sight for the kitchen. Sam Winchester looks up and sees you. His eyebrows raise in surprise and he instantly diverts his gaze.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Sam says, causing Gabe to look over his shoulder at you. He’s sitting on the counter and almost measures up to the young man standing in front of him. He snorts when he seeing your attire.

“Y/N, we have company! You can’t just walk around in your underwear. Sam-bam, avert your eyes! Don’t let the inappropriate sight of her offend you,” Gabe tries to put his hands over Sam’s eyes, even though he isn’t looking at you anyway. You chuckle.

“Hey, Sam, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you joke and Sam nods with a grin.

“You’ve seen Y/N in her underwear already?” Gabe levels Sam with a jealous look but it doesn’t last long. “Oh yeah, because of Dean.”

“Shut up, Gabe!” you hiss under your breath as you dash off to your room. You slide into a pair of ripped jeans and a thin faded AC/DC tank top. Your exposed biceps are decorated with two different silver metal armbands, you put on a simple ring or two and a leather bracelet. After doing your makeup, you put on a thick leather jacket and then stick your feet into your favorite pair of wedge sneakers. When you’re all ready to go out you walk into the kitchen to look at the mess Gabe has undoubtedly made.

Sam is actually cleaning up, wiping down the counters and putting away the remaining ingredients–though he has to guess as to where they’re stored. He does better than he did last time. This isn’t the first time Sam and Gabe have hung out here at the loft.

“So what were you guys making?” you ask him.

“Pecan pie. Gabe wanted to make it now so that we could eat it after the concert.”

“Oh, so you’re coming back here after the show?” you ask with a teasing innuendo. Sam smirked at you, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Yes, but just to hang out. As friends,” he says pointedly. “I have an exam on Monday so Gabe and I are hanging out tonight because I’ll be busy studying the rest of the weekend. Do you want something to eat? I could make you a sandwich if you’d like,” Sam offers, effectively changing the topic.

You gladly accept and tell him what ingredients you like. He pulls them out of your fridge and starts making you a sandwich while you sit on the counter. Sam makes a joke about how both you and Gabe like to take up counter space with your asses. You crack a smile, deciding that you genuinely like him and that you’re not going to be awkward around him if you can help it. You don’t even feel the urge to put up a front around him. He’s studying to be a lawyer, you remind yourself, he can probably see through the facade.

“So…is Dean coming over afterwards?” you mutter, trying to sound disinterested. Sam smiles and offers you the sandwich. Tonight–like every show night since that drunken after-party at the Devil’s Trap–you’re making sure that you eat dinner. You’ll likely be nervous on stage anyway, so you figure it’s better to be nervous on a full stomach.

“I was under the impression that he’s not  _allowed_  here. Which is a shame because Dean loves pie,” Sam chuckles. You playfully sneer at him. “Why can’t he come over? You’ve been avoiding him for weeks. I thought you guys hit it off.”

“Uh huh, sure, for one night, and one night only!” you announced like an emcee. “Come on, Sam, Dean’s a one night stand guy, isn’t he?” Sam frowns at you.

“Um…not always.”

“Oh…” you say, your embarrassment clear on your face.

“Are  _you_  a one night stand girl?” Sam probes.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been much of anything in the human relations department for a long time. Messy break up and all,” you trail off. Sam nods in respectful understanding, not digging any further. You take in a deep breath. “But, I guess, now that you know I’m not a total bitch, you can tell Dean and…if he wants to come around…because he’s friends with the guys…then that’s fine with me.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Sam replies. He gestures to a piece of paper sticking out of your pocket. “What’s that?” You pull it out.

“Oh it’s the address for an auto shop I need to go to before the show. Gotta pick up a part for my bike that I ordered.”

“What’s the place called?”

“It’s some non-franchise place called Singer’s Automotive. Do you know where it is?” There’s a smug grin plastered on Sam’s face like he has a secret to tell.

“Yeah, it’s just down the street from my house, off of 7th and Main. Do you remember where I live?” Sam asks like he’s teasing you. You smirk at him and push at his shoulder.

“Unfortunately,” you respond sarcastically. “Thanks for making me dinner.” You lean up on your tiptoes–because Sam is still taller than you when you’re wearing your sneaker heels–and press a kiss to his cheek at the same time as he kisses yours like an adorably sophisticated man.

At that moment, Gabriel comes out of his bedroom–having been showering while you and Sam conversed. His jaw drops and he scoffs at you and Sam and stomps his foot.

“Damn it, Y/N. No fair. Sam has already seen you in your underwear twice and now you’ve  _kissed_. I called dibs and I haven’t done either of those things,” Gabe pouts but you can detect a note of true anger and jealousy in his voice. “Are you leading me on Sammy?” Sam chuckles and walks towards Gabe.

“You called dibs on me?” he asks, sauntering over to your brother.

“Uh…” Gabe looks like he’s going to panic. But then the look of surprise on his face changes when Sam tugs on Gabe’s shirt. He pulls him in, cups his jaw with one hand and then bends down to plant a soft kiss to Gabe’s lips.

Your jaw drops slowly as the kiss lasts. You’re smiling, happy for Gabe but also feeling awkward for watching so you slide out the front door.

When you’re gone, Sam pulls back to look down at the happily dazed Gabriel. He pecks him one more time before stepping back with a red face and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I just figured that I’d go for it. I’ve never actually kissed a guy before.”

“And…?” Gabe is trying to gauge Sam’s real reaction. The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches like he’s going to smile.

“Uh, well…” Sam raises his eyes to look at Gabe with a confident smirk. “I think I liked it. But I’m not sure. I might need to try it again.” Gabe quirks an interested and excited eyebrow. He moves to take a step towards Sam before stopping.

“Hey, where did Y/N?” he asks, wary of witnesses.

“Oh, she went to go see Dean.”

“She did?” Gabe closes the distance between him and Sam and wraps his arms around Sam’s waist.

“Well…she doesn’t know that…she just thinks she’s going to some random mechanic. So that’ll be interesting,” Sam chuckles. Gabe silences Sam by grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think  _you’re_  interesting…and utterly kissable.” Gabe stand on his tip-toes as he plants a tender but claiming kiss on Sam’s mouth who responds in kind.

* * *

It takes some skill to ride Black Beauty in the shoes but you can manage it. The concert still isn’t for an hour or so. It’s just enough time to swing by and pick up the part you need from Singer’s Automotive. When you pull up, Metallica is blaring from the garage stereo and a man is underneath an old camaro. His foot is moving along with the beats.

You knock on the hood of the car to get his attention. His greasy hand pulls a remote out of his pocket and turns off the stereo and then a familiar body and face slide out from under the car.

Dean is completely surprised to see you, smirking and wiping his hands off on a greasy rag. You’re mentally kicking yourself because of course this is what Sam wasn’t telling you. You should’ve figured it out yourself. The shop is within walking distance of Dean’s house.

“What can I do for you?” Dean asks, professional in words but not with the smirk on his face.

“I need to speak with Bobby Singer. He ordered a part for my bike,” you say, making direct eye contact with Dean rather than avoiding his gaze. You don’t want him to know that seeing him up close and working on a car does things to you. It’s easier to try and ignore Dean when he’s in the audience as opposed to when he’s right in front of you.

You haven’t spoken to Dean since that night you’d shared and it actually had been a couple of weeks since then. But that doesn’t mean you hadn’t  _seen_ him.

Sam and Dean had become regular audience members. And no matter where they were in the crowd, you’d always managed to find them. It wasn’t like you were actively seeking out Dean. Sometimes they were center stage and almost front row and it was impossible not to notice them. Most times though, it was because Gabe was looking for Sam and always pointed him out like he had a nervous schoolboy crush.

You can recall  _every_  concert.

The first show after your one night stand with Dean, Heaven’s Rebellion had opened with “Kryptonite” by 3 Doors Down. The setlist included “Ramble On” by Led Zeppelin, “All Out of Love” by Air Supply and “Bad Company” except it was like a combination of the Five Finger Death Punch version but with Paul Roger’s voice because it was easier for you. Dean had seemed to love every song, singing along though you couldn’t actually hear him. You’d closed with “I’m not an Angel” by Halestorm. Gabriel had invited Sam and Dean backstage again after the show. You left before they got there, calling it an early night. Gabriel obviously knew that you were trying to avoid Dean. He didn’t make it awkward.

He did, however, tell you all about how the night went when he came home. Your early night didn’t exactly consist of you going to bed early. You’d actually stayed up late, eating popcorn and binge watching Dr. Sexy.

“Dean asked about you.” Gabe had said in a baiting tone. You’d shrugged, trying to play off the fact that the bait was actually working. You hadn’t thought Dean would be interested in a repeat performance. Okay well that was a lie. The sex had been great. Gabe read your mind. “Oh come on! You said he was great in the sack!” He had been great and, not to be arrogant, but you were pretty good too, especially considering you had been drunk. Either of you would have to be crazy to not want to do it again. But you had convinced yourself that Dean only wanted to be with you that night for the thrill. One night with a Rockstar. He couldn’t possibly want more right? Did you? No. You weren’t sure you were relationship material anymore and Dean was only interested in you because of the act you’d put on.

At least that’s what you’d thought until you spoke with Sam earlier tonight.

Seeing Dean at every concert had an effect on you and not in a creepy way. You recognized a lot of your fans but it felt like Dean was teasing you. Seeing him kept him on your mind–never giving you the chance to forget. He was torturing you with the memory of your night together.

He had the upper hand, you eventually figured out. Gabe and Cas and even your other bandmates talked about Sam and Dean all the time. They probably figured that you were over Dean but you weren’t really; despite what you’d told Sam. Sometimes, late at night you thought about Dean, about the burning hot trails he’d left all over your body that one night. The result was a pent up sexual frustration which you were now conditioned to recall when you saw Dean.

Tonight is maybe the fifth or sixth week since your one night stand with Dean. It was unclear how much longer you can avoid Dean. Case in point…you’re running into him outside of the concerts now.

“Bobby’s not here right now. I can find the part for you, if you’d like,” Dean offers. You hand him the paper in your pocket with the details of your order. Dean’s fingers brush your hand and you pull back a little too fast. Dean notices and grins as he looks down at the form. “I’ll go get the part. It’s probably somewhere in the back room.” Dean disappears for all of five minutes, during which you walk around the shop and look at the car Dean was working on. “Do you know much about classic cars or are you only interested in motorcycles?” Dean asks, offering you a package.

“I appreciate a good car but I don’t know much about working on them,” you admit, walking over to your bike and packing away the part in a side bag. “I should’ve figured that you would work on cars,” you mutter to yourself.

“Oh, so you’re not actually here to see me?” Dean asks with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. You scowl.

“I had no idea that you work here. I just needed this part.”

“Uh huh, sure. Do you want help with installing it?” Dean offers. You lean on Black Beauty’s seat and cross your feet at the ankles.

“Nobody works on my bike but me.”

Dean looks you up and down before shrugging. “I can respect that.”

“My hands are more than capable of doing the work. I’m good with my hands, just like you.” The words come out of your mouth before you comprehend their double meaning. Dean picks up on it instantly though and he chuckles, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh I know. I most definitely know what you can do with your hands.”

Silence passes between you and you feel that familiar sexual tension stringing tighter and tighter.

“Besides, if I wanted to see you,” you try to rein yourself in and take control, “all I have to do was wait until the concert tonight. You’re a groupie, Dean, I can always count on you to show up. You can’t resist.” Your rockstar cockiness is showing and you let it stiffen your backbone. Dean tosses his head back and laughs. He starts to approach you. In his grease stained tight t shirt and torn jeans, Dean definitely looks the part of an experienced mechanic…but he also looks like he’s stalking towards you like a tiger eyeballing his prey. He  _dares_  to lay a hand on Black Beauty’s seat next to your hip and then leans in.

“I’m not a groupie, Y/N. But you’re right, I  _can’t_  resist. And neither can you, not for much longer.” He dares to kiss your blushing cheek. “You look so sexy on this motorcycle, by the way,” he whispers in your ear.

You just sit there stunned for a moment as Dean backs off and walks back over to the Camero, pulling the stereo remote out of his back pocket.

“I–I uh–still need to pay for the part,” you manage to stutter.

“No charge, Sweetheart. I’ll see you at your show tonight. Maybe you can pay me back by actually sticking around afterwards instead of avoiding me like that night was a mistake,” Dean pointedly taunts you. You frown at him and his audacity but it just makes Dean smile. He presses a button on the remote and then sits down on the cart to roll back under the Camero.

The oh-so-familiar tune of REO Speedwagon starts to play.

_“I can’t fight this feeling any longer / and yet I’m still afraid to let it flow / What started out as friendship, has grown stronger / I only wish I had the strength to let it show.”_

You rev your motorcycle’s engine loud enough to drown out Dean Winchester’s ironic song selection and ride off towards The Bunker. 


End file.
